Crossing The Line
by BruisedSmile
Summary: There's a very fine line between love and hate.


**AN:** This piece is the result of a writing prompt centred around a Jesse/Rachel confrontation (I do enjoy those!) and a certain moment regarding the _"Finn"_ necklace Rachel wears. Huge thanks to Cris and northstar61 for allowing me to use their idea in an effort to help me through my writer's block! You guys are awesome :)

Hope you enjoy. Something a bit darker than my usual fics, so let me know what you think? Thanks!

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><p><strong>Crossing The Line<strong>

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><p>Rachel had been halfway home when she realised.<p>

Closing her eyes in irritation at her inconvenient lapses of concentration, she sighed to herself before turning on her heel and marching grumpily back to McKinley. Truthfully, she had been distracted all rehearsal and had only taken in about forty percent of whatever wisdom Mr. Schue had been attempting to impart to them, so she wasn't totally surprised that she had forgotten.

She winced in distaste as the memory rose up through her mind once more, taunting and aggravating, as painfully persistent as a bout of toothache. As if being increasingly surrounded by couples wasn't bad enough, today she'd had also the pleasure of being stuck directly behind Finn and Quinn who had felt the need to be particularly nauseating this afternoon – all smiles and whispers and brushing touches. Apparently completely oblivious to her presence, as usual.

Rachel huffed under her breath. She may have been forced to accept their ill-advised reunion for now, but she still had no wish to be subjected to their moments of public affection if she could possibly help it. So it was with a heavy heart that she had grit her teeth, bit her tongue and suffered the little display as best she could. All she could do was silently console herself with the knowledge that it wouldn't last, that one day Finn would come back to his senses and see that she was the only girl for him, the only one who could really make him happy.

It was just a matter of being a little patient, and while that wasn't one of Rachel's biggest strengths, it wasn't outside the realms of her capabilities. Besides, it didn't mean she couldn't keep quietly nudging Finn in the right direction.

Jumping up the steps to the now dark school, she yanked open the entrance doors and hurried on into the empty hallways. Her feet echoed so very faintly in the silence as she followed the well worn path towards a familiar classroom, quickening her pace a bit as she realised just how fast the evening was darkening around her. It was strange being in the school so late. The building seemed almost forlorn without the patter of rushing steps, the energy of noise and unfolding scenes of teenage life. It was odd to see such a usually diverse and frantic place plunged into stillness, steeped in shadows and almost secretly quiet. Rachel felt as if she were somehow intruding.

As she reached the choir room and tried the door, she was slightly alarmed to find it locked. Cursing herself at the thought she now had to go and try and find a janitor or authority figure of some kind who might be able to let her in, she wandered along a bit further before suddenly deciding to try the other door on a whim. She was pleasantly surprised as she felt the handle give way under her grip and quickly stepped inside as the door swung open, not stopping to question her luck.

The classroom beyond was almost as dark as the rest of the school… but not quite as empty.

It took Rachel a moment to register the soft glow that dimly lit the surrounding space, giving new shapes to the shadows and breaking the illusion of solitude. She came to a wary stop halfway across the room as she finally saw the small desk lamp that had been placed on the floor, illuminating the dark figure that sat slouched in the same corner chair that he had silently claimed as his own over the last few weeks. Discarded sheets of paper sat upon the empty seats around him and a ringed notebook lay in his lap, his head bent over the scrawling handwriting. Rachel hesitated, caught off guard, taking him in with a piercing sweep of her gaze that she was hardly even aware of.

She couldn't help noticing the familiar way he reclined so effortlessly, even as his eyes were sharp and intent with concentration. She observed the creases that lined his black shirt, sleeves pushed up and collar ever so slightly askew, and she wondered how long he had been here – before realising that he had never left. His jacket was still slung over the back of the chair as he worked, one long leg propped up across his knee and the odd wayward curl tumbling over his forehead to brush the tips of his eyelashes. Rachel stayed silent as she watched him. She was holding an internal debate: unsure how she should announce herself, undecided whether she should apologise for disturbing him.

It was an awkward decision that she was ultimately spared.

"Did you forget something?"

Rachel blinked at the sudden address before quickly berating herself for getting caught staring. He hadn't even spared her a glance, still frowning at the notes under his hand, his voice a strange blend of amusement and boredom. Finally straightening her stance, she arranged her features into a mask of composure and adopted a neutral tone in return. "My bag," she replied simply, swallowing down the twinge of embarrassment.

When she received no more offer of conversation, she dismissed him with a shrug and continued on in her original direction, feeling slightly put out but not really sure why. Somehow she always felt safer when he was ignoring her, yet it never failed to drive her crazy and she often found herself bitterly resenting the callous behaviour he was so prone to.

Relocating her chair at last, Rachel reached down and withdrew her rucksack from between the metal legs. _Now go home._ Standing up again, clutching the straps in one hand, she hesitated and glanced over once more to his corner with a soft frown. He was still working his way down the page in front of him, hand moving quickly and fingers clenched tight, perhaps leaning into his pen with a little more force than previously but otherwise completely indifferent to her presence.

She sighed quietly. Things had started out positively enough, or so she'd thought. She had even volunteered him for the job with Mr. Schue, eager to capitalize on his professional expertise with Nationals looming on the horizon. She had suspected his agenda even if she couldn't fully understand it, but she had pushed on regardless. She'd sensed the ulterior motive behind his agreement – he'd sought _her_ out after all – but she had convinced herself she could handle it, that it was worth some friction and awkwardness for the sake of the team and the win.

Yet things had quickly deteriorated and for reasons she couldn't wholly fathom, their already strained relationship seemed to be edging increasingly over to the wrong side of _civil._ Maybe they hadn't been ready to work together so closely, not under these circumstances. The entire thing had been a mistake, she knew that. A dangerous, stupid and damaging mistake; a rash decision made in a moment of weakness that she had regretted almost straight away. And now Rachel was at an uncharacteristic loss for how to deal with the quagmire she had gotten herself into.

She let her gaze wander over the shadow of his profile, still so studiously examining his notes with a concerted focus, no doubt working on the same thing he had been all rehearsal – compiling their strategy for Nationals. There was no flicker of emotion on his features, nothing to grant an insight into the man behind the mask. Rachel had quickly come to realise that he wasn't the same boy she had known; if anything he was even harder to read now than he had been the first time he'd stepped into her life. Time did funny things. They had both changed in ways neither could have anticipated and it had shifted the balance of their indefinable dynamic into new and uncertain territory.

"You're working late," she said at last as she picked her way back down between the chairs to the floor again, not really expecting a response. "I didn't think you'd still be here. Don't you have a home to go to?"

"Hate to break it to you," he deadpanned in reply. "But these are actually the normal hours you'd be expected to work for any other group hoping to take the top prize at Nationals."

Rachel felt herself scowling at the side of his head. He never resisted a chance to flaunt that arrogant superiority, did he? Ever the condescending champion, bestowing his grace and hard-earned eminence upon the less fortunate and never letting them forget it.

"You're taking this _'consultant'_ job rather seriously aren't you?" she threw back mockingly.

Jesse shrugged without looking up. "It's not in my interests for you guys to screw up again."

"Not _this_ time."

He finally glanced over at the muttered words, casually meeting her gaze without a hint of guilt or apology in those cool eyes. A shadow of a smile tugged his lips as he watched her clench her jaw and glare at him irritably. He turned back to his notepad.

"Let me guess, you're still cranky about the princess and the hulk getting back together."

Rachel rolled her eyes. He did enjoy his nicknames. She just stopped herself in time from sarcastically inquiring what _hers_ was – she had a feeling she didn't want to know. Instead she pursed her lips stubbornly and turned her gaze away towards the piano. The last thing Rachel felt like talking about was Finn and Quinn and the depressing love triangle she was stuck in. In fact, Jesse was the last person she wanted to be talking to _at all_.

"None of your business," she retorted sulkily.

Silence fell once more. She refused to look his way, even though she could feel him smiling at her obvious discomfort. Rachel gripped her bag tighter and wondered again why she hadn't left already.

"Isn't it about time you gave up on this futile infatuation? It's getting painful to witness."

She stiffened as she heard him speak up at last, his voice as mild and unconcerned as if he were merely commenting on the weather.

"Why are you holding out for someone who's made it very clear he doesn't want you anymore? Rather desperate, don't you think?"

Rachel felt her temper flaring in touchy indignation and turned around to shoot him a scornful look. A gesture that went unappreciated since the intended recipient of her glare hadn't even bothered to raise his head from his damned notes. This blatant and rude disregard was nothing she wasn't used to, but for some reason it was grating on her particularly hard tonight. His endless arrogance was utterly infuriating and it made her want to storm over and rip the wretched book from his hands. With some effort Rachel forced herself to restrain the childish urge, suspecting that was exactly the kind of outburst he was trying to provoke.

"Is it any different to the vain hope you're still holding out for _me?_" she quipped in a withering tone.

Jesse appeared completely unfazed by the pointed dig in her words, aggravating her yet further. "It might not be," he admitted calmly, an almost invisible touch of satisfaction lining his mouth as he finally raised his eyes to meet hers. "If it wasn't for all the stolen glances I've seen you cast my way when you think I'm not looking."

Rachel felt an angry and embarrassed flush rise to her cheeks and promptly opened her mouth to protest, but Jesse ignored her reaction and didn't give her the opportunity to interrupt.

"That poor excuse for a male lead is hardly something worth fighting over anyway. Why don't you just let Quinn have her toy and be done with it?" He leaned back and twirled his pen idly between his fingers, giving a small shrug. "Personally, I think they are rather cute together… in a vacuous, small-town, _Ken-and-Barbie_ kind of way." At her fuming silence, he smirked and carried on. "Do you even know _why_ you want him back so much?"

Rachel held his eyes defiantly, unsure why she felt the need to justify herself to Jesse St. James of all people. "I love him," she replied firmly, laying as much emphasis as she could upon the simple words, mentally sighing as she wondered just how many more times she would have to reiterate this fundamental truth before he finally _got_ it.

Jesse was quiet as he watched her for a moment, quirking an eyebrow in private amusement. "If you say so."

"Would you just _stop!_" she suddenly snapped, all but throwing her bag aside in frustration, her fragile composure finally cracking under the pressure.

"Stop what?"

"_This!_" she exclaimed loudly, gesturing towards him accusingly. "Giving your opinion where it isn't wanted. Assuming that you have _any _idea of what exists between me and Finn or the strength of our connection. Acting as if you somehow know my feelings better than I do."

He let her rant for a minute before smoothly returning his attention to the page before him once more, a joyless smile shadowing his expression, tight and fleeting. "I know you better than _he _ever will."

Ignoring the growing flutter of unease in her body, Rachel stood her ground and scowled at him. "How the hell do you figure that?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

He looked up and caught her gaze, a consuming darkness in his eyes that seemed to pierce right through her, his lips curving with an unnerving threat. "Do you want me to prove it?"

Rachel faltered, thrown by the dangerous whisper in his teasing tone, the tilt of his mouth and unwavering challenge of his eyes. His gaze didn't flicker from hers and she felt something painfully hot burn through the pit of her stomach, a reckless fear and daring that was as tempting as it was terrifying. She quickly forced it down, suppressing the urge to see just how far she could push him, unwilling to call his bluff. She unconsciously backed a step away. He almost seemed amused at her reaction, and the thought did nothing to ease the tension in her muscles or taut ache of her nerves.

Rachel felt like she was on the verge of breaking apart, shattering into despair under the command of his whim all over again, and it scared her beyond thought and reason. She'd had enough. She couldn't do this anymore.

"Why don't you just _go_?" she uttered desperately, not even attempting to control the shaking anger in her voice. "Get out of my school, get out of my city – get out of my fucking_ life!_"

"And _what?"_ he shot back with equal force, making her flinch as he abruptly rose to his feet in violent confrontation. His eyes narrowed scathingly, a jeering bitterness in his voice as he approached her. "Leave you to chase and fawn over Finn for another year? Trailing after him like a lovesick puppy that actually _enjoys_ being repeatedly kicked in the face? Gee, I'm sorry – I didn't realise I was keeping you from such a _rewarding _relationship."

Rachel stared at him with a seething mixture of fury and disbelief, her words dripping with contempt. "Oh that's _rich _coming from you. What makes you think you have _any_ right to pass judgement on my life, let alone my history with Finn! Not after everything _you _did. "

Jesse eyed her stonily, every line of his body rigid with restraint and all entirely too close for comfort. "You can cry victim all you want but we both know I wasn't the only one in that relationship for dubious reasons."

"Is that right?" she demanded sarcastically even as she felt herself moving away, nervously retreating as Jesse slowly backed her across the room. Feeling a swell of panic wash over her, Rachel could do nothing but force herself to hold his gaze just as stubbornly.

A thin smile crossed his lips. "Finn had just dumped your ass and you were pissed off. You wanted to get even; you wanted to make him jealous." Jesse gave a stiff shrug, though his demeanour was anything but indifferent as he took in the mutinous fire of her eyes. The resentment under his voice was sharp and cutting and only just barely controlled. "Our paths converged at just the right moment for you. It was all nice and convenient, wasn't it? You had the perfect excuse to teach Finn a lesson and make him realise what he was missing out on – and in the end that's all you ever cared about. Getting him back. Though god knows _why_ you're so hopelessly hung up on such a loser."

Rachel felt the door at her back, numbly registering her means of escape, and yet she didn't dare break away from the command of his presence, the web of violent destruction they were caught up in. She could hardly breathe they were so close.

Jesse's eyes hardened mockingly. "All '_I did' _was just give you the pretext you wanted in order to go running back to Finn, all needy and vulnerable – just the way he likes you."

Rachel glowered dangerously, unable to believe his sheer audacity. "You're a fucking bastard," she spat, her hands clenched and trembling at her sides, knotted into fists of raw emotion.

He smirked coldly, dark eyes glinting in something like amusement. "What? You didn't know that already?"

"You're right," she quickly amended, speaking as evenly as she could despite the shallow pitch in her voice. Unconcealed hostility burned in her face as she glared into his. "You're a world class selfish and egotistical son of a bitch. And that's why I will _never _feel the same way about you that I do about Finn."

Jesse all but laughed at that, a scorn on his lips that was echoed in his eyes. "I wouldn't _want_ you to feel the same way. I've had my fill of insipid and pathetic schoolgirl crushes, thank you."

"Then why _are _you here?" Rachel heard herself cry in frustration, teetering on the brink of her breaking point and desperate for any shred of understanding to light her path in these perilous waters. Was this all just another game to him? Was this revenge? She felt a heat prickle in the back of her eyes and gritted her teeth. "You flunked out of college – I get it. Sucks for you but not my problem. Why, out of all places, did you ever return here? What exactly did you think was waiting for you?"

Jesse observed her outburst with an unreadable expression, the force of his gaze somehow stripping away the layers of her defences until she felt all but undone before him. The silence that stretched between them was as taught as razor wire. She watched a muscle twitch in his jaw, his features tightening for a moment with something that could pass as either a smile or a grimace.

"Maybe it was just morbid curiosity. Maybe I just wanted to see if you'd finally had the guts to stand up for yourself. To cut the _leash_."

Rachel frowned, fighting back the cruel blow of the spiteful words, determined not to give him any more power over her. Jesse wasn't known for showing mercy on the battlefield. Her hand fingered the delicate chain around her throat, wandering over the familiar shape of the name she always kept close to her heart, seeking a comfort and strength to hold onto amidst the tumbling crush of emotion that filled her. She was barely aware of the action, the gesture more a reflex than anything else. She noticed too late the way Jesse's eyes followed the movement, his gaze darkening as it landed upon the object of her attention.

"How sweet," he muttered sarcastically, stepping closer until his body was brushing hers with a forbidden heat, raising his hand to let his own fingertips trace the necklace that lay against her skin. His knuckles skimmed lightly across her collarbone and Rachel tried to suppress the illicit shiver that raced through her at the graze of his touch, unable to quell the uneasy sense of apprehension that grasped at her like icy hands. He didn't look up from the gilded letters that ran under his thumb, his voice as deadly soft as a winter chill. "You even have a gold plated collar with which he can call you to heel."

Rachel found she couldn't move; her body all but paralysed under his touch. Her heart was fluttering like a trapped bird in her ribcage, robbing her of the breath she so vitally needed. Swallowing down the rising fear, she clenched her teeth and spoke slowly, enunciating each frosty word with as much authority as she could summon. "Get your hands _off _me."

Jesse's gaze flickered up to hers at the sound of her voice. He smiled only slightly, but there was no warmth in it. His fist closed around the golden name and in one snap of metal, he ripped the chain from her neck with such abrupt force that she flinched away from him with a sharp breath.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shouted furiously, eyes wide and incredulous as she regarded the boy before her with no small amount of disquietude.

"You're not his fucking _bitch_, Rachel!"

"I'm not _yours _either!"

He didn't answer her, stepping away and turning his shoulder. Rachel's heart was racing. Whether it was from rage, shock or desire – she didn't know; the heightened emotions so entangled within her she could no longer tell one from the other.

She wasn't turned on. She _wasn't._

"Give it back."

"Why?" he asked tauntingly, examining the necklace between his fingers with a look of distain. "It's cheap and tacky and probably cost ten dollars at Walmart."

Rachel was breathing heavily, her body trembling and chest heaving as she fought for air. She stared at him as if he were a stranger to her conscious mind, the shadowed memory of a fever induced dream. A ghost that would never stop haunting her. "You're sick."

He laughed, straightening his shoulders to cast a glance up at the ceiling. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm just a fucking masochist to ever come back to this deadbeat town in the first place." He clenched his hand around the small necklace, frowning down at his fist before suddenly hurling it violently across the room. He rounded on her with such seething anger it sent a strike of fear jolting through her.

"Do you have any idea how_ frustrating_ it is to see you endlessly throwing yourself at the feet of a boy who is so far below you? Sacrificing your dignity and compromising all that you are in order to ingratiate yourself with a bunch of nobodies who will be nothing but a vague blot on your memory in a few years time?" Bitterness lanced through Jesse's voice, his eyes locking on hers with a frightening intensity. Rachel almost stumbled over her feet as he closed the small space between them once more, grimacing as she was backed roughly against the wall, trapped by the battle of their gazes and burning beat of her heart. "You think being accepted by this mediocre group of people will somehow make you worthwhile; that hanging off the arm of the school's quarterback is going to cure all your misplaced insecurities. When are you going to realise that they don't matter? None of them _matter._"

"And I suppose you think that _you _do," she demanded scornfully.

He was so close, too close…

"What I think is that you're too afraid to let go." His voice was a hot murmur over her skin, a soft vibration that revealed only a glimpse of the bewitching power that lay within it. A devastating beauty that she had fallen for once before. "I think that you'd rather play it safe than feel alive."

Rachel closed her eyes and willed herself anywhere but here, anywhere but moments from falling into the gaping maw of the abyss. It was no more than a desperate whisper, a vain plead for a salvation that would never come. "Why don't you leave me _alone?_"

Her breath left her in a shaky gasp as she felt him seize her by the arms, pinning her back harder into the door behind them, making her wince and breaking her eyes open to meet his. The words were a harsh exhale against her lips. "Why don't you _wake up?"_

He refused to release her as their eyes held for a single shattering moment, defiant and demanding and equally broken. When he abruptly crushed his mouth to hers, Rachel's mind tumbled into panic even as she pulled him in just as hard, fingers grasping and clutching at his body, winding through his hair and holding him tight against her.

An aching heat rose through her and it nearly killed her to try and fight it. "_Don't_," she breathed painfully as she finally forced their lips apart, barely opening her eyes. She felt his mouth bruising her skin, her body igniting under his grip, his touch tearing open her heart and stealing away every last piece of her. She tried to force the words through the shallow waver of her voice. "We can't…"

His hand skimmed her thigh, sliding under her skirt, tracing the line of her underwear with a smooth and enviable confidence. She shuddered and clenched her fist into his shirt with a white-knuckled grip, biting her tongue so hard she tasted blood. She felt him speak against her neck, his breath hard and searing against her skin.

"Then tell me to stop."

Jesse heard her stifled gasp as his fingers slipped inside her, the flinch of her body tightening with unwilling surrender, and a storm of unbridled longing rushed through him. He touched her with the knowing precision of experience, coaxing shivers of desire with each firm push of exploration, a possessive fire staking claim in his heart as he savoured every exquisite inch of her. He felt her quivering against him, her eyes closed and heartbeat racing so fast he could feel it echoing through his torso; all the simmering heat within her body, spurred on by his own. The pitch of his voice was deep and strained as he dragged his lips up her throat, demanding an answer she wasn't prepared to give. "Tell me you don't want me."

Rachel felt as if she was falling apart at the seams, overwhelmed by a dangerous craving that would ultimately devour her. Her brows furrowed with the effort, struggling against the silky torture of his fingers and commanding pressure of his body. "I…don't."

The challenge didn't go unmet and Rachel whimpered and bucked against him as he delved deeper in response, drowning in the delicious friction of his fingers, warm and slick, twisting and pushing and driving her ever closer to the edge. She felt the smirk on his lips even before she heard it in his voice.

"You were always a terrible liar."

Rachel pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, a desperate anger breaking over her, spiralling up with the pleasure and pain in a heady intoxication that engulfed her whole being. She held his eyes with a burning and bitter conviction. "I hate you."

A ghost of a smile passed over his lips. "I know." He leaned in close, uttering the words against her mouth in a whisper of smug satisfaction. "It's the one passion you can't fake."

When their mouths met again, the kiss was urgent and rough and utterly uncompromising. She could feel the demand in his body, pressed hard against her, and blazing _want_ crashed through Rachel, hot and liquid and insatiable. Her hand fumbled for the lock on the door behind her, snapping it over in one sharp twist before swiftly allowing the pounding haze to consume her mind entirely.

Her hands reached for his chest and wrestled with the buttons she found there. She relished the feel of his skin, the strength of his muscles, as she quickly pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms to the crook of his elbows. His fingers were under her blouse, wreaking fresh assault upon her sensitive body, a groan slipping past his lips as she ran her fingertips up his spine to tangle firmly in his hair. She marvelled at the dexterity of his hands, succumbing to his forceful touch as they hastily worked away the layers between them.

When he thrust inside her, Rachel had to bite his shoulder to stop herself from crying out loud, holding back the raw moan in her throat as she buried herself in the throws of their passion. She couldn't breathe, his scent and heat were suffocating her, and she didn't care. She felt him pushing deeper, claiming everything she had to give, and a muffled sob escaped her, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. She held him fast to her, arms wrapped painfully tight around him, nothing tender in the intimacy of their touch. Her hands clawed desperately into his skin, hanging on as if she were lost at a cliff edge, unable to do anything but wait for the excruciating bliss of the fall. She could feel him stiffen against her, tense shudders wracking his body in hard gasps. She knew that she was hurting him as much as he was hurting her, and felt him embrace it just as fiercely. Her back rocked against the door behind them, trembling with each surge they rode together, hard and frantic, their grip on each other unrelenting and unforgiving.

She'd said she hated him. She refused to love him. Yet all Rachel truly knew was that she had never _needed_ another person so much in her life.

**~o~**


End file.
